The Saint's Wife (12 page)

The tension in Alexandra’s shoulders didn’t change. Then she rolled her eyes. “This is insane, David.” She started pacing across the patio, her heels thunking hard on the weather-treated boards “I can’t believe you’d even ask me that. And if you’ll always be her dad no matter what, then it shouldn’t matter.”

“If I’m her biological father, then why is it so hard for you to look me in the eye and just
say
it.”

Alexandra stopped. Her back was to him, and the muscles beneath her blouse were cable tight.

“Just tell me,” he said softly. “Yes or no. If the answer’s yes, I’ll never bring it up again.”

Neither of them moved or spoke for a long, long moment.

Finally, she turned around.

And the tear running down her cheek answered his question.

David burned rubber on the way from his condo to Chris’s place. Gripping the wheel so tight his hands ached, grinding his teeth hard enough to hurt, he broke every posted speed limit and made it there in record time.

All the while, he heard his ex-wife’s pleas in the back of his mind.

“If you’re angry about it, take it out on me,”
Alexandra had begged.
“Whatever you want to say to me, say it. But please, promise me you’ll leave him alone. He’s too sick for this.”

Too sick, hell. Being on an accelerated track to the afterlife didn’t negate what he’d done.

I’m your best friend, Chris. What the fuck?

“It was my fault,”
she’d said.

“Took two to tango.”

“I know, but…”
And she’d lowered her gaze and sighed, and his heart had dropped even more, because what woman in Chris’s world didn’t try to cover for him?

Now he understood Joanna. She wasn’t a bitch. She wasn’t a shrew. She was a woman who’d gotten tired of the games Chris played, and he’d played them with all the women in his life, from his high school girlfriends on up to his wife and, apparently, mistress.

At the gate to Chris’s neighborhood, David punched the code into the keypad so hard he was surprised he didn’t break the buttons. The gate took its time opening, and as soon as there was a wide enough gap, David slammed on the gas, squealed his tires and shot through it.

When he reached the house, the garage doors were closed, but he figured Chris was home. There hadn’t been any texts from anyone to let him know Chris was in the hospital or would be at an appointment instead of working from home. Most likely, he was either at his desk or in his bed.

David slammed his hand onto the steering wheel. Chris didn’t deserve to get away with this. To be given a free pass to fuck his best friend’s wife, knock her up and then give her the cold shoulder while she was carrying his baby.

You fucked my wife
and
you treated her like shit? Who the
fuck
do you think you are?

He jerked the key out of the ignition and got out of the car. Storming up the walkway, into the house and across the foyer, he balled his fists and ground his teeth and barely resisted the urge to punch a hole in the wall. That son of a bitch!

He took the stairs two at a time, ready to strangle Chris with his bare hands, and fought the urge to sprint to Chris’s office door. If he wasn’t in the office, then he’d be in the bedroom, probably resting. Because he was sick. Dying.

David raised his fist to pound on the door, ready to give Chris a piece of his mind. And quite possibly that fist.

You really want to be known as the guy who punched out his terminally ill best friend?

David winced and lowered his hand.

He couldn’t. He just…couldn’t. A few months ago, or a few years ago, he could have gone in there and let fly, ripping into Chris and quite possibly taking a few swings at him. But Chris’s goddamned death sentence was like a universal pardon. Amnesty for every slight he’d ever committed, no matter how bad.

A lump rose in David’s throat. He hadn’t been this furious in eons. He’d damn sure never been this hurt before. He’d been betrayed by both his then-wife and his then-best friend, and what could he do about it? Nothing. Not without potentially losing his daughter, and not without being the guy who tore into a man on borrowed time.

David’s eyes stung. This was how Joanna felt, wasn’t it? She couldn’t speak ill of her dying husband. Couldn’t leave him. Couldn’t get away from the toxic, life-sucking marriage to a man who treated her like shit, because he was, in the eyes of everyone around them, a saint. Redeemed not by remorse and amends, but by the army of cells slowly killing him from the inside out.

Asshole or not, the man was dying.

And David couldn’t do it. He just…couldn’t.

“You son of a bitch,” he whispered into the silence.

Then he turned on his heel and started back down the stairs.

But he didn’t leave the house.

Chapter Fourteen

Someone knocked at Joanna’s workroom door.

“Oh for God’s sake.” She tossed the knife onto her workbench so hard it skittered across the end and fell to the floor with a quiet
clink
. She considered picking it up, but if Chris had taken the time to come clear down here instead of paging her, then he was probably already in a dickish mood. “What do you want now?” she muttered on her way across the room.

Teeth clenched and chest taut with preemptive annoyance, she opened the door and—

“David?” She swallowed. “This is unexpected.”

“I know. I…” He met her gaze across the threshold. Joanna had never seen him cry before, but his eyes were definitely red and wet.

Joanna stepped closer and reached for his arm. “What’s wrong?”

“You were right.” He grimaced, the pain palpable in the twist of his lips. “God, you were right.”

“Oh shit. Here, come in.” She stood aside.

David shuffled past her, shoulders sagging and gaze down. “Tiffany.” He halted, speaking over his shoulder. “You were… My…my daughter isn’t…”

She touched his arm and guided him to the window seat. As he sank onto the cushion, she sat beside him and murmured, “I’m so sorry, David.” She took his hand. “I swear, I didn’t mean to let that slip out. I was drunk, and I—”

“It’s okay.” He lifted his head and met her eyes. “I’m not pissed at you. I…I get it. But…God. Chris? And Alexandra?” He winced, lowering his head again. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it. And that…I mean, that they did it.” He raked an unsteady hand through his hair. “What the fuck?”

“Chris is nothing if not discreet,” Joanna said through her teeth.

David laughed bitterly. “Isn’t that the truth? Jesus. He’s my best friend. My fucking business partner.” He shook his head. “After all these years, I…”

She squeezed his hand. “I know the feeling.”

He turned to her. “How long have you known?”

Joanna avoided his gaze. “Don’t do this to yourself. It won’t fix anything.”

“No, but maybe it’ll help me get my head around a few things.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. “David…”

“Please,” he whispered.

Finally, she turned to him. “I knew for about six months before I found out Alexandra was pregnant.”

He blanched, his eyes huge. “And you knew…that the baby…”

“I, um…” Joanna cringed.

“Just tell me,” he pleaded softly. “I know this has got to be hard for you too, but I…I have to know.”

She looked down at their hands. He was gripping hers tightly now, and she ran her thumb along the back of his to remind him what he was holding on to. He glanced down, and sure enough, relaxed his grip a little.

Still gazing at their hands, she said, “I confronted her.”

“You did?”

Joanna nodded. “She’d been acting weird around me for a while, and when I heard she was pregnant, I put the pieces together.”

“And she told you.”

Another nod. “After we’d had it out and calmed down a bit, we agreed to keep it between us.”

“What? Why? You didn’t even tell Chris?”

“No.” She lifted her gaze. “The thing is, the only thing that would change was how many people got hurt. You and Alexandra were still trying to fix your marriage. And…and I guess the biggest thing was we didn’t want Tiffany caught in the middle.” She swallowed hard. “We didn’t want her being used as a weapon.”

David’s lips parted.

Joanna went on. “We thought that as long as everyone believed she was your daughter, no one would get hurt.”

“So that’s it? You just turned a blind eye to the fact that she was sleeping with your husband?”

Joanna flinched. “What could I do?”

“Something other than stay with a man after he had an affair?”

“
An
affair?” She snorted. “You make it sound like she was the only one. Didn’t you notice how many women he fucked over the years?”

He stared at her, disbelief etched all over his face from his jaw hanging open to the creases in his forehead.

“Maybe it was just easier for me to see.” She sighed. “It’s hard not to notice when you’re living in the same house.”

“But you couldn’t leave?”

“No. I was a wreck back then.”

David’s lips tightened. “I remember.” He squeezed her hand gently. “I definitely remember.”

Her cheeks burned. “About the time I decided I’d had enough, I was too sick to function. When I got back on my feet, I thought I could just bide my time for a little while. Get my head back together. And then I’d leave.”

He grimaced. “And then Chris got sick.”

Joanna nodded slowly, struggling to push back the lump rising in her throat. “He got sick, and I couldn’t leave, and now—” Her voice cracked. “Now I’m stuck.”

“Jesus,” he breathed. “I can’t…” He shook his head. “But if Chris doesn’t know, then…why the hell did things change between him and Alexandra when she was pregnant? I do remember that much, and she always brushed it off as Chris being preoccupied with your condition. But, was there more to it?”

Joanna scowled. “Chris doesn’t like his mistresses gaining weight any more than he likes his wife gaining it. And Alexandra, being pregnant…”

“He—” David’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. The whole time he was begging me to put on some weight because I’d gotten too thin, he would turn around and give her shit for—”

“That son of a
bitch!
”

“That’s what your ex-wife and I both thought. And it’s… That’s the other reason she and I decided to keep this from Chris. And from you. Maybe it wasn’t her place or mine to make the decision, but the baby deserved better.” She moistened her lips. “Alexandra and I both knew you’d be the better father.”

“You…” His eyebrows pulled together. “So you just…you let the affair go?”

“What could I do?” Joanna chewed the inside of her cheek to distract herself from the ache in her throat. “My husband was never going to be faithful. He was never going to be happy with me or with any woman. The best—” She swallowed. “The best I could hope for was making sure his daught—the baby didn’t get punished for that.”

David stared at her, eyes wide. Then he gently freed his hand from hers and gathered her in his arms. “God, Joanna. I can’t believe how wrong I was about Chris, but I really can’t believe how wrong I was about you.”

Joanna couldn’t even respond. She closed her eyes and sank into his embrace, basking in the relief of
finally
telling someone the truth, and of being heard and believed and understood. Eventually, she managed to whisper, “I’m sorry my husband did you so wrong.”

“It’s not your fault.” He pressed a tender kiss onto the top of her head. “And nothing’s really going to change now.”

“It’s not?” She drew back and met his eyes.

“No. Alexandra’s agreed to keep my name on Tiffany’s birth certificate, and we’re not changing the custody agreement. I know, but it doesn’t mean Tiffany has to.”

Relief surged through Joanna’s veins. She’d agonized over hurting David with the truth, but she’d also been terrified of how this would damage the little girl who’d unwittingly been pulled into this mess.

“I am so sorry,” she said again.

“No. Don’t be.” He lifted her chin and made her meet his eyes. “If anyone should be, it’s me. If I’d known all the things he’d done, I never would have tried to make you face him.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I should have.”

“We both should’ve done a lot of things.” She shrugged. “We can’t change the past.”

“No, we can’t.” He pulled her into another tight embrace. “But for the future, you deserve a hell of a lot better than what he did to you.”

She held him tighter. “So do you.”

For the longest time, they just held on to each other. Neither spoke, neither moved. They just…were. And as much as she hadn’t liked David for many years, only recently discovering his kinder side, she found herself wishing he wouldn’t let go. She’d been starved for human affection since long before Chris had started passing that affection around to every thin, pretty woman in his employment. Though David was the last person she’d ever expected to get it from, she liked it. She liked the way she felt in his arms—comfortable, like she didn’t have to be anyone else for a little while—and when he stroked her hair, she didn’t want him to ever stop.

Eventually, though, he did, and he loosened his embrace.

As they separated, their eyes met.

Joanna froze. So did he.

The longer they held each other’s gazes, the faster her heart beat. Something gleamed in his eyes. Something wild, barely contained. Not rage, though—something much more dangerous.

David swallowed. Joanna took a breath.

Is he…

Oh my God, is he really looking at me like that?

His eyes flicked to her lips, then met her eyes again, and her pulse went crazy.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking,” she whispered, “the answer is yes.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, I did, but…” Hand trembling, he touched her face again. His thumb traced her cheekbone, and his palm warmed her jaw. “Joanna…”

“David, I—”

He kissed her.

And everything—time, the world, her heart—stopped.

This was so wrong. And yet…

She didn’t even realize she’d moved her hand until her fingertips brushed the stubble on his jaw. They both shivered, pulling each other closer as her fingers slid into his hair. Her heart was definitely back in motion now, pounding against her rib cage as the tip of David’s tongue teased her lips apart.

She didn’t remember ever being kissed like this. As if nothing in the world mattered to the other person than savoring and tasting every nuance of a long, gentle kiss.

Their eyes met again, and oh, yes, she’d read that gleam right. His fingertips brushed her cheek, and the soft contact sent a shockwave right down between her thighs. She had no business responding this way to anyone, least of all this man, but she did. And she loved it. And she wanted more.

She ran her fingers through his hair. Cradling the back of his head, she pulled him down and kissed him, and she meant it. Deep, hard, passionate—she’d never kissed anyone like this before, and it felt amazing.

Abruptly, David drew back. “I’m…I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

“We don’t have to do anything.”
Even though I want you so, so bad.

“I’m sorry,” he said again and touched his forehead to hers. “God, Joanna, you…” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You deserve better than someone who wants to get back at your husband.”

“Is this just about revenge?” Joanna touched his face. “Or do you really want me?”

“I…” He met her eyes. “I want you more than you can imagine.”

She trailed trembling fingers down his cheek. “Then why are we stopping?”

David stared at her, eyes huge and lips apart. Joanna was about to encourage him, to reiterate that this was about them and them alone, but he curved his arm around her waist and drew her into another kiss. He kissed her hard this time, forcing her lips apart and exploring her mouth. She gave as good as she got, too—gripping his short hair until he moaned against her lips, refusing to let him or his skilled tongue be in control.

His hand slid up her inner thigh. She held his shirt and his hair tighter, afraid he’d let go. Pull away. Stop this.

Afraid he might remember why they shouldn’t be doing this at all.

Because…

Damn it…

They shouldn’t…

Joanna broke the kiss, and she barely kept herself from cursing aloud as the exhilarating flurry of arousal evaporated.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Everything.”

She met his eyes. And her heart sank even further.
What are we doing?

David swallowed.

“I’m sorry.” Joanna shook her head. “I…I can’t do this.”

“I know. We…” He took his hand off her thigh, and they drew apart.

She forced back the emotions rising in her throat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t. There’s no point in blaming anyone.”

That wouldn’t stop her from blaming herself. God, what had she been thinking?

“I should go,” he whispered.

Joanna still couldn’t make herself look at him, but she managed a nod.

He hesitated, maybe trying to find some parting words, but then he turned and walked away. The workroom door opened, closed, and she wasn’t sure if she really heard his footsteps going down the hall, or if that was just her imagination.

Whatever the case, she was alone now. She rubbed her hands over her face and swore into the silence of her workroom. She’d hated Chris for cheating on her, and now she’d cheated on him. With his best friend. Though she knew damn well she deserved better than Chris. As did David.

Still…she was a married woman, even if it was only on paper.

But the only thing more intense than the guilt burning in her stomach was the phantom remnants of David’s lips on hers. She touched her lower lip, shivering at the memory of his perfect kiss.

His perfect kiss that never should have happened. It was wrong. Even fantasizing about it was wrong. Remembering it?
Jesus, Joanna…

But why the hell did she hate herself more for stopping than for starting?